Not Your Typical Love Story
by StayingAlive223
Summary: Katniss Everdeen has been in a coma for just over one year due to a seemingly harmless accident at a summer archery camp. Unexpectedly waking from her deep slumber one afternoon, Katniss recalls a thing called the Hunger Games in a place called Panem—two things that played a major role in what the hospital staff now calls the dream of a lifetime. *abandoned* Truly sorry!
1. Chapter 1

**Hello readers of this fic! I greatly appreciate the time you're taking to read this! I just want to get a few things out of the way before I begin. (1) I'm strictly writing this because I want to be a beta reader. I've written a few things, but after I went back and re-read I was utterly embarrassed I had even thought about posting such horrible sentences that I went on a deleting spree and alas, here I am. With my profile empty and my mind anxious. (2) I realize plenty of these stories has been written or, more or less, attempted, so I don't blame you for reading the first chapter and deciding it's not for you. I understand completely. I do hope, though, that it's funny. I'll try my best not to make it a typical love story, as the title suggests. (3) I really do love English. A dream I have in life is to write a book, inspired by John Green. If you have never read John Green's work, I strongly suggest you do so (including **_**The Fault in our Stars, Looking for Alaska, An Abundance of Katherines, **_**and **_**Paper Towns**_**). So by writing this story and thus becoming a beta reader, I think—hope—it will help me on my way to writing a book. **

**Again, thank you for your time. I sincerely hope you enjoy this story, even though I know the plot is much overused. Now, read on!**

_**Summary: Katniss Everdeen, a vegetable in the eyes of doctors, has been in a coma for just over one year due to a seemingly harmless accident at a summer archery camp. Unexpectedly waking from her deep slumber one afternoon, Katniss recalls a thing called the Hunger Games in a place called Panem—two things that played a major role in what the hospital staff now calls the dream of a lifetime…**_

* * *

CHAPTER ONE

It is one o'clock in the afternoon when I start making my last rounds for the day, readying myself for the shift-change that occurs this early only every other Sunday. With three exams this coming week, I can only be grateful for the few hours I'll get tonight to prepare myself for the approaching mid-terms. Usually, we interns are the ones who higher-ups award night shifts and stacks of paperwork they don't care to do themselves. However, I've noticed a considerable amount of leniency pressed upon my shoulders by my residency director lately and I wonder if it has something to do with the fact that one of my patients, we only recently found out, will never wake up.

Twenty-two year old Katniss Everdeen was brought in to the emergency room about fifteen months ago with a seemingly mild injury to the head that knocked her unconscious. Sources say she was in a tree stand at an archery camp, shooting skeet with remarkable skill and little effort, when the branch she was on gave way and her head came down just right on a rock.

No surgery was needed, the prognosis was very good, just a concussion, and she should be ready to be up and about in close to two weeks. Her only prescription was that she might want to stay out of high trees for a while. But when two weeks had come and gone with no sign of her surfacing out of her dreams and into reality again, we realized how serious of a problem we had on our hands.

Now, I'm sure you're wondering why exactly I'm especially effected by the unfortunate news of her predicament, so I'll be blatantly honest with you.

Katniss Everdeen is a special girl. So special, in fact, that I haven't been able to say her first name without the last one slipping off my tongue as well. If you could imagine what it would be like calling the President by his first name then you know how I feel about calling her by hers. It somehow seems unnatural, in a sense, and maybe it would make everything a lot more real.

I knew her from an anthropology class during our freshman year of college. I don't think she noticed me, or even knew I existed for that matter, even though I sat a few rows behind her. I was always surrounded with people though and she seemed quiet. Not quiet, exactly, or shy, but something along the rough edges of her shielded exterior made me think she wasn't exactly a people kind of person.

It turns out I was right.

A few things I did know about Katniss Everdeen pre-accident: (1) She has a sister, Primrose, who has an eye for beauty and the talent of persuasion. In my undergraduate days before medical school when I worked at an art museum, I remember Prim stopping by just to listen to hours on end of history I swear she'd heard thousands of times before. (2) Her father died helping put out a fire in town. He went in to rescue a forgotten cat, and that was the last anyone saw of him. (3) Mrs. Everdeen works in a small tailor shop on the other side of town. I've visited only once—I needed a suit altered for my brother's wedding—and it's a cozy little shop, although I'm not quite sure how it pays the bills. (4) She has friend named Gale. I'm not sure what he does or who exactly he is, but he comes to visit sometimes. And (5) I came to care for her deeper than any synonym to the word "crush".

Her mother visits once a week now, on Monday nights, while we have to make Prim leave her sister's bedside each time the darkness grows in the window and a chill forms on the breath of the wind. It's beautiful, really, to watch Prim talk to her sister like she does—like she can hear her. When we told Prim the chances of Katniss waking up were slim to none, her face hardened with a determination to do everything in her power to heal her older sister.

Of course, not even the best doctors have been able to diagnose her.

So, with that thought weighing heavily on my mind, I flip Mr. Fowler's chart over to begin the last series of check-ups for the day.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Mellark," he greets me when I adjust the IV in his hand. Mr. Fowler has kidney failure and a surgery scheduled for eight in the morning to receive one of his brother's working ones.

"Afternoon, Hank," I reply lightly. "How's everything going?"

"Oh everything's just fine."

"Ready for surgery tomorrow?"

"Yes, I think I'd like to get my body back in working order."

I smile as I read his file once more and check his antibiotics dosage. "As do we. Any special requests before the big day?"

He doesn't even hesitate. "I'd like a cup of pudding, Doc."

"Pudding…" I mumble, scratching it down on my hand. It's the little things, I've learned, that make the best impressions. "Coming right up. Oh, chocolate or vanilla?"

Before Mr. Fowler gets to answer, Anita (one of the nurses) is at my elbow. She gets my attention with a cough. "Um, Dr. Mellark?"

"Yes?" When my eyes meet hers I can see something's wrong and my mind goes through my list of patients. _Mr. Thompson? Mrs. Scott? Mrs. Cooper?_ Then my train of thinking changed, just as the words made it out of Anita's mouth. _It can't be—_

"It's Katniss Everdeen."

I raise a timid eyebrow, asking the silent question. _Awake or dead?_

It's little more than a whisper. "She's awake."

* * *

I don't remember the journey back to room D135. All I know is that when I enter, my heart is racing with my breath and the room is jam-packed with hospital staff. Med-students, nurses, brain specialists. And it's _loud_. Dear sweet Lord, it's loud.

I can't imagine how overwhelmed I would feel if I woke up after a year to this. What are these people thinking? I tap the nearest doctor on the shoulder—Jem Walker. He turns, as if surprised to find yet another person in the overcrowded room.

He looks at me expectantly.

"What's going on?"

"What do you think is going on? She woke up!" He brushes me off and turns back around, standing on his tiptoes to catch a glimpse of the fourth-floor-miracle.

"I realize that," I say to the back of his balding head and white lab coat. "I want to know why all these people are in my patient's room." I tap his shoulder a bit harder. He stumbles backwards into me and steams. So I ask a little bit harsher, "Why are there people in my patient's room? This isn't good for her! Wouldn't you be overwhelmed?"

He snorts. "I probably would have been dead." He turns again. "Now, would you get out of here, kid?"

I put my foot down on the line Dr. Jem Walker has just crossed. "No!" I shout. "She is my responsibility! Now get out! Everyone, get out!"

My throat stings and my eyes are watering, but no one seems to have heard me. And the ones that did only seem annoyed. _Screw this, _I think. The only other person that should be her right now is Prim and maybe my residency director. But all these loonies? No. Too far.

Anita stands with the other nurses in the hallway just outside the room overflowing with warm bodies and senseless words. I run a hand through my hair.

"Can you whistle?" I ask her.

"You can't?"

My other hand scratches at the back of my neck, where I'm starting to get a cramp.

"Can you please just…take care of that?" I gesture to the chaos. "I need to talk to her. I'm her designated physician and these other people who think they need to be in there are about to piss—"

"Okay, okay." She puts a hand on my shoulder. "Breathe. I'm on it." To the other nurses, "I'd advise you to plug your ears." They do as they're told.

Anita purposely marches into the room, her fiery red hair swinging behind her, and a whistle rings out into the hall, finally shutting everybody the hell up. The gears in my mind begin to turn again. My ears buzz in the silence.

She starts talking. "Now, I'm sorry that had to be done, but this is ridiculous, people! This poor girl just woke up and number one, you are being insanely loud, and two, I doubt she has much idea what's even going on." Nobody says a word. Anita is not someone to mess with when she's angry, and you especially don't want her anger pointed at you.

She continues. "And I'd like to know why, when you all have other patients to be checking on, you're here and _not_ letting Dr. Mellark—her _designated physician—_see her. He's the only one who should be in here. So everyone _out_!"

It's a lucky thing everyone listens to Anita. I thank her on her way out and she give me a gentle nudge with her elbow, scowling at the muttering staff making their way back to their own business. I take a breath, push myself off the wall, and walk straight into Katniss Everdeen's room.

When I see her, sitting up in her bed, color in her cheeks and light in her eyes, my heart almost melts at the sight. Because she's really awake. After almost a year and a half, she's finally awake.

I clear my throat and pick up the clipboard on the end of her bed, clicking my pen against it.

"Mrs. Everdeen, I can't tell you how great it is to finally see you awake." A smile forces its way onto my lips, igniting fire in my stomach. I've never talked to Katniss Everdeen before and as much as I would like to have our first conversation anywhere but here, I'm as nervous as I was on my first date in my freshman year of high school.

"You're Dr. Mellark, then? Peeta Mellark?" she asks, and I realize we haven't properly been introduced. I nod. "I remember you from class," she continues. "Anthropology, right? I didn't know you wanted to be a doctor."

"It's been my life's dream," I respond. "I'm surprised you remember me."

Her face floods with blush. Not the kind of pink that appears on the cheeks of the nervous, or embarrassed, but the redness of the utterly humiliated. And I have no idea what has caused it. So I act nonchalant, like I haven't noticed. Like my heart isn't racing a million miles an hour.

"Why wouldn't I?" she finally stammers out.

"Well, I've never seemed to make an impression on you," I reason. I get no response to this, though, so I do what any good doctor would do and ask the questions I'm supposed to be asking. "How's your head?"

"Good."

"No headache? At all?"

"Nope."

"Good." I record it on her chart. "On a scale of one to ten, how are you feeling overall?"

Her eyes glance to the window. "Eight."

I scribble it down. "Where'd the other two points go?"

"My mouth is dry and I'm absolutely starving." She looks pointedly at me. "I feel like I haven't eaten in forever."

"That's probably because you haven't," I reply. "We've had to feed you through a tube, so it's normal for someone who's been in a coma to be hungry. We'll fix that right up." I poke my head out of the room. "Anita, can we have a glass of water in here? Thanks."

"So how long have I been out?" Katniss asks when I return. "No one seemed to want to answer my question. And what happened?" She suddenly seems to remember something important and urgent. "And Prim? How's Prim? And my mother? Gale?"

"Whoa, slow down there a little," I say. "One question at a time." Anita brushes past me and hands Katniss the water.

"I'll see if I can get any food in here, sweetie, but for now that's all we can give you." Katniss nods her thanks and attacks the liquid. "I'll also bring a pitcher for you." Anita leaves to find the pitcher.

"Let's start with what happened," I resume. "So the people who brought you in said you were in a tree stand at a summer camp. You were shooting a bow, do you remember?"

"Yes." Nod. "I remember the camp and the stand. Did I fall?"

I pull up a rolling stool and set my clipboard back on the end of the bed. "Yes. You only had a mild concussion, so we honestly never figured out why you were out for so long—almost a year and a half, that is."

She nearly chokes on her water. "A—a year and a ha—half?!" she stammers out. More coughing. I suddenly find myself right beside her, my hand gently patting her fragile back as the water makes its way out of her lungs. "I had no idea." Her eyes are watery and her nose seems to be running, but I can't tell if it's from despair, confusion, or the choking incident.

I don't know what to say, so I sit back down and get to work with the rest of her inquiries.

"Everyone's fine, though. Prim visits every night. We literally have to make her leave when visiting hours are up." I find myself smiling again and it seems to spread to Katniss' lips as well. "Your mother visits every Monday night and Gale—well, he comes when he's not busy, I guess. But he never stays long. I think—" I hesitate… "—I think it's hard for him."

She swallows. Anger, doubt, relief, I'm not really sure. Her face turns stony, her cheeks becoming colorless again and her eyes seem to glaze over.

"I'm tired," she whispers as a single tear falls down her cheek. She wipes it away angrily, as if asking the nerve of it to dare escape her swimming eyes.

"It's normal," I try to reassure her. I'm not sure it's helping.

"I had this…crazy dream," she begins and she rests her head against her pillow. Her silver eyes glue themselves to the ceiling.

"Would you like to tell me about it?" I ask. Once again, she blushes beet red.

Then she starts talking quickly, as if remembering is painful for her but at the same time wants to get it out. "There was this place—Panem. It was once North America and there were Twelve Districts…" From there, the words seem to spill out on her lips of their own accord as she recalls to me the weirdest, most intriguing dream I've ever heard.

* * *

**Thanks for reading this first chapter! If you liked it, leave a review! I'm going to try to write quickly, but I have quite a bit to do in a short amount of time, so I'll do my best. I will write a lot over Christmas break, also! So yay, that's soon. I'm thinking about writing the whole thing (or getting a few chapters ahead) to have a designated day to post. What do y'all think?**

**Again, thanks for reading and I'm open to constructive criticism!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for hanging in there, I know it's been a long time. But Christmas break is upon us so I'll try to get more of the story out! I realized, when I went to write this chapter, that the way the first chapter ended was not exactly what I had planned. I wanted Katniss to wake up screaming about something—you know, from the games or something. But then I wrote that because I felt like it and I'm regretting it. So I'm making do with what I have. Because that's how writing works sometime, right? I just have to get over it. So, that being said, this chapter isn't much. I'm not going to focus so much on the retelling of The Hunger Games through her dream as I am on her relationship with Peeta. And I'll try to make it interesting because we've got muscle depletion and a shrunken stomach and who doesn't love some doctor-patient awkwardness? Especially with Prim and Finnick (yes, he's in here). I'm going to have some fun with that.**

**Again, thanks for sticking around and bear with me through this chapter. It's probably not the best.**

**Enjoy!**

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CHAPTER TWO

"So then, our district escort, Effie Trinket, this lady dressed in all pink with heels and a wig—the whole works—reaches into the reaping bowl with thousands of names. The whole time I'm thinking 'Not me, not me. _Please_ don't let it be me' instead of hoping it wasn't going to be Prim. And of course her name gets called. Now I'm devastated and selfish and I have to do something, right? So you know what I do?"

A laugh escapes on her breath, light and airy. I feel the corners of my own mouth turn upward into a smile.

"What?"

"I volunteer! Now it's me who has to fight to the death against 23 other kids."

A knock on the door interrupts us. Katniss and I turn toward it at the same time, startled by the sound. Anita cracks the door open, but not a single word makes it out of her mouth because it's Prim on the other side of that door and she's not waiting for permission before she screams "Katniss!" and runs to her sister.

"Prim!" Katniss returns as her sister slams into her, hugging her with all her might, squeezing the life right out of our very own, newly-awakened, Sleeping Beauty.

"Oh my gosh!" Prim takes Katniss' face in her hands, examining her as a mother would. "I was so scared! They said you'd never wake up. And when you first came in, with this huge knot on your head—oh, they didn't know what had happened, no one could diagnose you! I was so worried…" Her voice cuts off with a stifled sob and Katniss takes her in her arms, calming Prim's trembling frame.

"Shh, I'm okay now. I'm okay. Its gonna be alright, Prim."

I suddenly feel as if I'm invading something that should be private, so I turn and start out of the room, taking Anita's wrist and towing her behind me. I'm not even sure they know we left.

I put Katniss' file back among my other patient's and run a hand through my messy hair, tousling it further, and lean back against the countertop, allowing the cold to seep through my scrubs and onto my flushed skin. I can feel Anita's eyes on my back as I stare ahead at the room that my life has revolved around for the past year. She coughs—a fake one, of course, one that means "I know what's going on here, but I'm going to ask anyway." Subtlety is not her strong-suit.

"What?" I ask when I meet her sea-green eyes, ignited by a definite, mischievous twinkle.

"I didn't say anything," she shrugs. "But…" she taps her pen against the wall clock.

"2:30," I read, "Is there somewhere I have to be? There's not a meeting I forgot about, is there? Class? No. It's Sunday. Why—why are you looking at me like that?"

She shakes her head, a chuckle riding her exhale on the way out of her throat. "Your shift _did_ end an hour ago, I just didn't know if you realized." I can tell she's biting her tongue, keeping herself from either laughing, or saying more.

"Oh," I say quickly. "Right. Well, I, uh, guess I'd better get going, huh? It's not every day I get off this early. And I've got finals this week. That lab practical. Yup, better get a move on…" I'm stalling, and I know it. From the look Anita's giving the computer screen, I know she knows it, also. I grab Katniss' chart again and say, "Got to take this back in there and give her the rundown. You know: release date, appointments, all that jazz."

"Right." Anita continues typing, a grin on her mouth.

"Right."

I reenter Katniss' room.

Prim still sits on the bed, talking rapidly to her sister like she won't get enough time to fill her in on everything she's missed over the past year. She stops when I come back in, though, biting her lip as if she was caught stealing candy out of the jar before dinner.

"I know," she says, "I'm going. You've got stuff you need to do. Run tests, do check-ups. I'll be out of your hair in no time flat."

"No, it's okay," I say when she picks up her purse and car keys. "You can stay; I was just going to let Katniss know what's going on. You're welcome to stay and listen. Actually, you probably should, if you don't mind."

Prim's face lights up like I've never seen it as she makes herself comfortable in her usual spot beside Katniss' bed.

"Okay, Katniss, I know you're eager to get out of here, but we're going to have to keep you for a few more days, just to make sure everything is going to be alright. It's normal for someone who's just gotten out of a coma to lapse back into it unexpectedly, so we want to make sure that's not going to happen. Also, we need to get your eating habits back to where they were. Being in bed, immobile for this long has also most definitely resulted in muscle depletion and your blood pressure needs to go up.

"So, you'll probably be here for two weeks minimum, but we're going to see where you are at the end of that time in order to estimate further. You're going to need to do some physical therapy also, but we'll get into that a little bit later. For right now, you're going to be on a very strict diet. There's only so much nutrients we can give you through a tube, so you'll need to build your old eating habits back to expand your stomach tissue and give your body time to re-learn the break-down of solid foods again. We'll focus on the rest tomorrow when you've had a little time to cope with everything, so we won't get into the details right now.

"Anita, the head nurse for this department, will bring you anything you need and answer your questions. All you need to do is push that little button right there on your table. Yes, that's the one. But mainly, just try to get some rest. We don't want you to be too active and give your body a sort of over-load, so take it easy. Immediate family visitors are all I'm going to allow right now because I don't want you overwhelmed. If things are going well within the next couple of days, I'll change it to friends as well. Right now, like I said before, just try to rest, which I hope doesn't sound too ironic for someone who's literally slept for a year."

Katniss smiles when I finish my spiel and give me a mock salute. "Yes sir."

I smile, too. "I'm glad we understand each other. Well, I'll leave you to your sister." I put her chart back at the end of her bed and give Prim a pat on the back. As much as I've seen of her, she might as well be my sister, also. "Remember, if you need anything, press the button."

"Got it."

"I'll be back tomorrow at noon."

"Okay."

"And I'll be waiting to hear more about that dream."

"I'm sure."

"Don't go anywhere. We frown upon having to call security."

"I don't think that'll be a problem."

"They can be a bit edgy."

"Right."

I run backwards into the door, the handle stabbing my lower back and bringing me to my senses. Katniss just has the prettiest grey eyes, like silver ice. I've never seen anything like it…

"Until tomorrow, ladies."

I slip out the door before I have a chance to do (or say) something stupid.

* * *

It's amazing that I make it back to my dorm through the daze in my mind, like fog has covered up every sane thought, making everything is surreal. Just this morning did Dr. Lewinski—brain specialist—tell me she was never going to wake up. Just this morning, all hope was lost on the vegetable that was Katniss Everdeen. Just this morning did I think I was going to have to break the news to her mother, to Prim….

But everything can change in an instant. Like death, for instance. It's insane how someone can be alive one second and the next…not. But this was the opposite. Katniss has been dead to me all these years, and in a second, she's awake, emitting glowing life from her paled skin under the fluorescents of the sterile room.

I throw my backpack on the floor and crash onto the couch, which my roommate, the infamous Finnick Odair—lady's man at its finest and my incredibly big-headed best friend—has apparently already claimed. Of course, I don't notice this until my head lands on his lap.

The TV is flipped onto _Bay Watch_ and I think, _typical Finnick_.

"Afternoon, roomy," he says when I don't remove myself from his personal space.

"Humph," I reply, my mind still elsewhere.

"So, is this how we're greeting each other now?" he asks. "Because, I mean, you should really bathe first. Who knows how many diseases you could be carrying."

I manage to push myself up and away from him and kick my feet up on the table before replying with "Look who's talking."

"Touchy today, are we?" he asks with his trade-mark smirk. "It's a good thing I brought home brownies, then. I didn't know it was your time of the month."

"Shut up," I say, stretching my arms behind my head. "And why do you have brownies? They don't have like…weed in them, do they?"

"Will you stop with that? It was one party, one time. An accident. You know I don't do that. My scholarship could be out the window if they did a surprise drug test. And you know that would happen to me. No drugs, nope. Not a single one for this basketball star."

I shouldn't have said anything. Finnick is not one to do drugs, I know that. He works hard to keep up his grades, despite his flirtatious, douche-bag aura. His dad's paying for his school, also, and he would never do anything to upset him. That one party was sophomore year and it wasn't his fault he ate a special brownie. Those things happen. But from then on, I haven't heard a single thing about him going to any more parties, and he's always been sort of weary of brownies ever since the incident. I think it scared him more than he lets on. Finnick is the most responsible jock I've ever met, that's for sure.

"Okay, don't get offended," I offer. "And a brownie sounds good, actually."

"Well, too bad, sunshine, because I already ate them." I give him an incredulous stare and he gives me a sheepish grin. "You said your shift was over at 1:30, anyway. That's what happens when you're late. It's almost 3. Finnick gets hungry."

"Of course," I grumble. A brownie would have been sprinkles on the icing to the perfect day. "Where did you get them, anyway?"

"Oh, uh Becca, Becky, Belle…well, someone gave them to me as a sort of 'good luck' for finals." Again, typical Finnick. A laugh escapes me. "I know right! As if I need luck. I'm gonna ace everything, as usual."

I roll my eyes.

"So, let's get down to business." He mutes the TV. Did you hear me? Finnick Odair muted _Bay Watch_. He actually turned his eyes away from the screen. There's a first time for everything, I suppose… "Who's the chick?"

"What?" I ask, taken aback. Finnick's not one to beat around the bush.

He puts on his famous smirk. "Peeta has finally found a chick that digs all that romantic stuff, I'm guessing, and he's afraid to tell old Finnick about it because he thinks I'll judge. Well, let me tell you something, artsy fartsy, this is a judgment-free zone. I assure you. Now spill! I've been waiting for this day for a long time. You have no idea how hard it is to watch your best friend meander through college without a single girl! Give me the deets!"

"The deets?"

Finnick waves his hand through the air as if warding off a fly. "Detail, details!"

"Okay," I begin, "first off, there are no 'details' and second off, I'm not even sure there's a girl."

He smiles triumphantly. "So there _is_ a girl!"

"Do you need me to check your ears?" I ask, but Finnick always seems to hear what he wants to hear. "I said I'm not _sure_ if there's a girl."

"Technicalities."

"Well, you remember Katniss Everdeen?" I ask, deciding it's better to just get it out there. I mean, I've had feeling towards this girl for years. There's no denying it. But now I don't know where we stand, me being her doctor and all. Is that even allowed? Probably not, come to think of it.

"Um, I'm going to save some time from guessing and say no," Finnick replies. "I'm not so good with the names."

Of course. "Well she was in my Anthropology class freshman year. She was the one who has been in a coma for a year. The one who fell out of a stand at archery camp. Anything ring a bell?"

"Ohhh, yes. _That_ Katniss." He scratches his chin in thought while I bite my tongue to keep from saying _how many Katniss's do you know?_ "The one you couldn't stop talking about and started stalking—"

"I was not stalking," I cut in, offended.

Finnick laughed, throwing his head back, projecting the sound toward the ceiling. "Right. You only waited to catch the bus to ride with her. And you would stare at her across campus. Never talking to her. Always watching. Not creepy at all."

"Only when you say it like that," I pout, crossing my arms over my chest and sighing.

I really didn't stalk Katniss, I promise. Stalking is something creepers and serial killers do. I, thankfully, am neither. I didn't use binoculars or night-vision glasses or anything. It's not like I followed her home or watched her from her bedroom window. No, none of that. I only stared because she might have been the most beautiful specimen to ever cross my path—maybe not my _direct_ path, but my path nonetheless.

The way her aura shone with confidence was something I could never seem to take my eyes off of. It's not my fault, I just happened to ride the same bus a couple of times, also. My eyes always sort of…found her, even when I wasn't looking.

There are so many things about her that I've never seen anyone else emit. Her steel eyes, so closed but so warm, were so entrancing. It was hard not to look at/for them. The way her hair flowed when she let it down, which was almost never, was like mahogany-colored water that swayed across her back, straight, without a single hair out of line. More often than not, though, it was stuck in a regular braid down her back, which became something of a signature for her.

Okay, so maybe I was a little interested in her for a while, but for some reason she was much more fascinating when she became my patient. Each day, waiting for her to open those grey eyes, I grew more intrigued. She became a mystery. One that seemed unsolvable. But then pieces started coming together when I would overhear Prim talking to her sister in her entrapped slumber. I began to know Katniss a little better every day.

"So we've got ourselves a regular Sleeping Beauty, do we?" Finnick asks. "You would go for the girl in the coma."

"That's the thing," I say. "She woke up today."

"Well that's a step in the right direction."

"But, Finnick, I'm her doctor. Nothing can happen." A yawn makes its way out of my throat. "Besides, she's got that Gale, guy, or whatever."

Finnick raises an eyebrow. "A Gale guy or whatever? Interesting. An obstacle." He rubs his hands together like evil villains do when plotting revenge or something.

"I don't know who he is. He used to visit her, though not too frequently. I'm not sure, but I think he graduated last year with a Master's degree in engineering," I say. "You ever seen him around? Tall, almost six-five, dark hair, tan skin. Basically he could be a male model." I pause for a moment. "You think I have a chance?"

"How long do you have until she's released?" he asks.

"About two weeks."

Finnick's mouth curls up into a smile. "A lot can happen in two weeks, I'll tell ya that."

* * *

**Yay for the end of the second chapter! I hope you like it, sorry that it wasn't that great. But I'm really trying to make the next one better! And keep in mind that I'm writing this to be a beta reader. I'm not great a writing, but I like critiquing other people's stories. Sorry if that sounds hypocritical at all. But it's merely something I'm better at.**

**p.s. Sorry for any typos! It's late, I'm tired...**

**Leave a review if you would like! And thanks for reading! I would really like to know what you think!**


	3. Author's Note

So I know you were all probably hoping for an update, and I'm sorry because this isn't one. I think I'm going to abandon this story. Not because I don't like it, or don't want to finish it, but because I literally have no time to write anything. I'm currently taking 6 dual credit courses and I'm a senior trying to prepare for college. On top of that, I participate in dance, drama, track, NHS, HOSA, and more, which takes up every ounce of my free time.

I did tell you all before that I was just writing this to be a beta reader, and that is why I'm not going to delete it. I'm truly sorry I won't be finishing this story, but I don't have the energy or imagination or plain-old time. If I write anything, I want it to be original and mine and something I can someday have published. I hope you understand.

I will say this, though. If any of you would like to continue this fic in your own words and ideas, by all means go for it! I might even read it, or beta, if you would like. Just please give credit to these first couple of chapters that were mine.

You are all wonderful. Thanks for your kind words, favorites, follows, etc. I hope you aren't too mad at me. Have a wonderful year, and until next time!

~StayingAlive223


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